


Protégé

by araxes



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-28 18:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5101880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/araxes/pseuds/araxes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At sixteen years old, Gen was smarter and sneakier with the same easy manipulation and proclivity for danger.</p><p>“You guys need some new blood and I’m the perfect candidate.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When the team got Shaw back, they were overcome with relief.

Relief that was cut short when Shaw immediately tried to strange Root to death and ended the reunion with Reese sticking a taser in the side of Shaw’s neck and dragging her to a makeshift cage.

What followed was roughly six months of mental deprogramming and physical rehabilitation. With the aid of the new and improved Machine and without the distraction of Samaritan, the team managed to restore Shaw back to her grumpy old self with most of her memories intact.

Which was simplifying a very arduous and emotionally challenging process, but Shaw didn’t really like to think about the most painful period of her life, so she didn’t. The next two years were spent instead thinking about their new numbers and the reemergence of gangs vying for Brotherhood’s position and Root’s face when she came.

That was also a new part of Shaw’s life. Not that she didn’t have sex with Root before, just that Root now stuck around afterwards and stayed for breakfast. And lunch. And dinner.

So Root was pretty much living with her and as much as Shaw hated to admit it, it wasn’t too terrible. Root was quiet and clean and knowing where she slept at night made Shaw sleep more soundly. It also meant having sex on every square inch of the apartment at any time which was probably Shaw’s favorite perk.

 

* * *

 

One night, with Root pressed firmly against her back and snoring audibly, Shaw was drifting off to sleep slowly before she heard the scratching of the lock of the front door. Immediately, her tiredness wore off and she sat up, jostling Root awake. Root mumbled nonsense before Shaw quieted her.

“Do you hear that?” Shaw asked.

Root looked confused for a few seconds and Shaw felt slightly nervous that her mind was playing tricks on her once again.

“Is someone trying to break into here?” Root asked, in amused disbelief.

Shaw smirked in response and fished the Nano she taped to the bottom of the bed. She got out of the bed slowly and silently and moved towards the living room.

“Your Machine doesn’t know who that is?” Shaw asked from the doorway.

Root shook her head. Their apartment was in a camera dead zone which meant they were almost completely off the grid, unfortunately, it also meant that whoever was trying to break in was too.

Shaw walked until she was pressed against the wall beside the door and waited patiently as the doorknob turned. She inhaled and braced herself for a fight as the door opened slightly. What popped through the doorway was the curly, blonde head belonging to one Genrika Zhirova.

The Genrika Zhirova who was supposed to be in preparatory school, not breaking into Shaw’s apartment.

Gen walked into the apartment, obviously not noticing Shaw’s presence, and Shaw dropped her gun to her side and let out a small sigh.

“Gen.” Shaw growled.

Gen jumped slightly and turned around to face Shaw. She was older now, maybe sixteen, and her features had changed in a way that made her a little unfamiliar. She was clutching a lock pick and had a large backpack slung around her shoulders.

“Hi Shaw.” Gen said sheepishly.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Shaw asked, she was genuinely trying to be patient but Gen’s disregard for her own safety and Shaw’s personal space was a little annoying.

Gen frowned in response, the embarrassment melting off her face.

“Seriously?” Gen asked, “You leave for six years without a visit or a call or even a letter?”

Gen stood up to full height, now full of righteous indignation and questions that Shaw was far too tired to answer. Shaw rubbed her at her tiredly, not knowing where to begin. Before she could even try to explain, a voice rung out from the bedroom.

“You must be Genrika.” Root said, casually leaning against the bedroom doorway.

“It’s Gen,” she said rudely, “who are you?”

Root smiled at Gen’s grumpiness. The Machine was slowly reporting Gen’s situation to her.

“I’m Root.”

Gen tilted her head at Root’s form. She glanced at Root’s pajamas and then to the bedroom behind the doorway before turning to Shaw with the same appraisal. Something in her head must have pieced together because her face broke out into a huge grin.

“So that’s why John’s not your boyfriend!” Gen said, excitedly.

Shaw blushed slightly and Root snorted from the doorway. Shaw threw her a glare before looking back to Gen.

“Gen,” Shaw cleared her throat, “my question still stands. What are you doing _here_?”

Gen looked confused.

“I got a text with this address.”

Shaw looked at Root, silently asking her if she knew what was happening. Root shook her head no and Shaw turned back to Gen.

“And why aren’t you at school?”

Gen’s eyes widened before she looked to the floor, scuffing her shoes.

“I…might’ve ran away.” She mumbled to the ground.

Shaw grit her teeth.

“Your school better currently be engulfed by flames because otherwise,” Shaw pulled in a breath, “you have no excuse.”

Gen scoffed, her teenage attitude shining through once again.

“And what’s your excuse for ditching me?”

“I’m not the one on blast here. Finch is going to murder you and then me when he finds out.” Shaw responded, her voice raised an octave.

“Well, maybe you should be on blast! You stop answering my calls and then my texts and then nothing for two years? I thought you died, Shaw.” Gen said, her voice was near shout and Shaw was worried that she would alert their overly-sensitive neighbors.

“Technically, she was dead.”

Gen and Shaw both turned to Root who was still casually leaning against the doorway, picking at her nails.

“I think I finally figured out why She sent her here.” Root added, giving Shaw a significant look.

“What?” Gen asked incredulously.

Shaw sighed, Root was giving her an opportunity for the truth. A truth that Shaw wasn’t sure Gen was ready to hear let alone accept or understand. She looked back at Gen, gone was the ten year old who was in over her head, what stood in front of her now was a teenager with the same messy blonde hair and proclivity for information and no regard for anything in the way of that information.

“Have a seat.” 

 

* * *

 

At four in the morning on a Tuesday as they sat around the kitchen, Shaw explained everything to Gen with the help of Root.

“You are being watched…” Root began.

Shaw glared at her until the shit-eating grin disappeared and continued telling Gen everything properly. She told her about the Machine, and her time in the ISA, she told her about what her and Root did with the help of Harold and Reese.

“So that’s how you found me?” Gen asked, her hands clasped around a mug of hot chocolate.

Shaw nodded.

“You were my first proper number.” She said, her mouth twitching into a microscopic smile.

She told Gen about Decima and the rise of Samaritan, she told Gen how they had to go into hiding which meant Shaw’s phone calls changed into coded texts, she told her about the Stock Exchange, how she ran into gunfire and saved everyone’s life (she left out the part where she kissed Root) and then woke up three years later with a migraine and a lot of questions.

“So…you forgot about me?” Gen asked quietly. Her enthusiasm and questions all but disappeared the further Shaw got into the story.

“She forgot about Bear, Gen.” Root said. She too had gotten quiet when Shaw began talking about the Stock Exchange and the glimpses and whispers of memories she caught.

Gen smiled sadly.

“That sucks, Shaw.”

Shaw huffed a laugh and nodded.

“It really did.”

After that, Root had taken over storytelling duties, filling the gaps that Shaw left. When she talked about Shaw’s time as an agent, Shaw’s stomach lurched uncomfortably and she didn’t realize how tense she had gotten until Gen put a hand over the death grip on her mug.

“You really don’t remember anything from then?” Gen asked.

Shaw blinked for a few seconds as memories flashed behind her eyes; glimpses of her body acting on instinct, doing things she couldn’t stop, driven by a goal that wasn’t her own.

“No.” Shaw lied.

Root told Gen about the rebuilding of the Machine and Shaw’s deprogramming.

 “And now she’s brought you here.” Root ended.

An uncomfortable silence set as Gen took in all the information. A few minutes went by and the exhaustion started setting into Shaw’s body once again as her eyelids got heavier.

“There’s one thing you left out,” Gen said after a few seconds, “how did you two meet?”

Shaw spluttered in her mug and Root suppressed a laugh. She looked at Shaw with a smirk and a challenging brow. Shaw wiped her mouth, if Root wanted to embarrass her, she wasn’t going to let it happen.

“She tied me to a chair and tried to torture me.”

 

* * *

 

Gen ended up staying over, taking the spare room that was Root’s computer hub and temporary doghouse. By the time Shaw had finished answering all of Gen’s questions, dawn had cracked and Gen had left the kitchen with a request to not be waken until midday. Shaw hated being asleep while the sun was up so she had made a move for her running shoes before she was dragged back to bed by Root.

She let out a breath as she watched the alarm clock tick by from six fifty-nine to seven. Revisiting everything had firmly pushed sleep away and she knew that whatever she would get would come with memories she had tried to forget.

“Get some rest, Sam.” A gravelly voice called out from behind her.

Shaw turned to face Root.

“What does the Machine want with Gen?”

Root let out a sigh and rubbed at her eyes tiredly.

“Right now She wants us to take care of her. Apparently Gen didn’t leave school on the best of terms,” Root said, “she’s suspended until graduation.”

Shaw closed her eyes.

“Finch is going to kill her.”

Root nodded.

“She thinks Gen can help us.”

“Help us with what?” Shaw asked, confused.

Root’s eyes unfocused as she tried to piece together the Machine’s puzzle.

“I don’t know yet,” she said, “but I bet Harold won’t like it.”

 

* * *

 

Unsurprisingly, Harold did not like it.

As soon as they had walked into the new headquarters with Gen on their heels, he had frozen with his signature deer in headlights look before Gen had hesitantly told him the truth.

Currently, he was on the phone with the school administration gesticulating wildly around the library about _‘sizeable donations’_ and _‘owed leniency’_. Root and Shaw had watched with morbid curiosity while enjoying breakfast while Gen had shrunken as if she were trying to make herself as small as possible.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Finch this mad before.” Shaw said, mouth full of doughnut.

Root tilted her head.

“I have once,” She glanced at Shaw with a smirk, “when I kidnapped him.”

Shaw rolled her eyes good naturedly.

“Psycho.”

Root nudged her with her shoulder and took another sip of her coffee as Finch pulled the phone away from his ear.

He stopped and everyone looked at him expectantly.

“They hung up on me.” He grumbled.

Gen perked up.

“Does that mean I can stay?” She asked.

“Absolutely not,” he responded instantly, “you shouldn’t even be here right now. Ms. Groves, I don’t usually trust you to make sensible decisions but Ms. Shaw, you should have known better than to bring her here!”

Shaw shrugged in response.

“Can’t leave her at home, too many explosives lying around.”

Root leaned into her side with a lecherous grin.

“Amongst other things.” She whispered uselessly as everyone in the room heard and blushed a deep red.

“Besides,” Shaw said, shoving the last of the doughnut in her mouth, “we already told her everything and your Machine apparently wants her here so…”

She trailed off with a shrug.

“The Machine is not her guardian, I am,” Finch said sternly, “Besides, what could the Machine want with Ms. Zhirova?”

Everyone turned to Root expectantly.

“I haven’t figured it out yet.” She responded dryly, taking another sip of her coffee.

“Well, until you do,” Harold looked to Gen, “Ms. Zhirova, you are to stay here or Ms. Shaw’s apartment under supervision and do the homework and study required for your _finals_ until graduation. After which, you will go to whatever college you see fit and forget about whatever Ms. Groves and Ms. Shaw might have told you.”

Gen rolled her eyes in response.

“So I’m grounded?” She asked.

Finch paused.

“Effectively.”

 

* * *

 

True to word, Gen’s grounding meant she was trapped in either their new headquarters or her newly renovated room at Shaw’s apartment. They started a routine in which Shaw (and sometimes Root) would drop Gen off at the library before heading off to the number of the day. Shaw would then return at the end of her mission to see Gen slouched over a pile of books, conspicuously glancing at Harold’s work on his computers. Then, Shaw would roll her eyes and motion for Gen to pack up while she bandaged whatever new wound she received that day, before they headed back to her apartment.

It was disgustingly domestic and it didn’t help when Root would barge in with a _‘honey, I’m home’,_ to which Shaw would mumble _‘this isn’t your home’_ at whatever food she was cooking and Gen would scoff ' _you guys are gross'_   to Shaw’s mortification and Root’s pleasure.

Then they would all stand around the kitchen island (because Shaw’s apartment didn’t have room for a kitchen table, not that they’d ever use it for anything besides sex) and eat while Root bragged about her daily going-ons and Gen filled them in on her last two years.

One particular evening three weeks into this new schedule, as Gen complained about whatever assignment she had due, Shaw winced uncomfortably as her latest wound (a knife to the abdomen) flared up. Without an appetite, she dropped her fork, rubbed at her eyes and willed her headache to go away. Her gut burned uncomfortably and when she opened her eyes again, Root was staring at her with barely concealed worry.

Gen must have noticed because she cut herself off abruptly.

“Shaw?” She asked, “Are you okay?”

 “I’m fine,” Shaw smiled reassuringly though it probably looked more like a grimace, “you should see the other guy.”

Root looked unamused.

“Why didn’t you wait for back-up?” Root asked, her eyes on her plate and her voice harsh.

“I could handle it myself. I got out of there, didn’t I?”

Root laughed humorlessly, continuing to move her food around the plate.

“With a stab wound and a concussion.” She said accusingly.

Shaw closed her eyes.

“It’s not a concussion.” She said. When she opened her eyes, the room shook violently and she had to hold onto the counter to not fall down. Maybe it was a concussion.

“You can’t keep barging into numbers without back-up, you’re not invincib-”

“Guys.”

“And you’re one to talk? How many relevant number has the Machine sent you on this month?”

“That’s different, I have Her as back-”

“The Machine isn’t backup, she can’t shoot someone about to put a bulle-”

“Guys.”

“She’s an extra pair of eyes which is more than you had to-”

“I’ve been doing this for years, I can take care of myself. I don’t need you to fret over me like a ch-”

“Guys!” Gen shouted, her voice cutting over the argument.

They stood still for a few seconds, glaring at each other while Gen looked in between them.

Shaw broke the stalemate with a sigh as she lifted her plate and dropped in the sink unceremoniously. She reached for a cabinet with a wince and pulled out a bottle of expensive scotch before storming off to her bedroom and slamming the door shut.

Root unfroze and matched Shaw’s sigh. She ran a hand through her hair and left the kitchen for her computer room, closing the door behind her silently.

Gen glanced at both doors worriedly. It was the first real fight she had witnessed between the two of them and she wasn’t sure if it was a usual thing or not. Taking another look at the room Root went into (Gen’s bedroom), she made for the couch and wondered how she got stuck in the doghouse.

 

* * *

 

“I was thinking…”

Shaw looked up from her breakfast of a stack of pancakes smothered in maple syrup, a peace offer from Root.

“That’s not good.” Shaw said dryly, going back to her pancakes.

Root grinned from her place at the stove and Gen rolled her eyes.

“I was thinking,” She repeated, “that I could maybe help you guys out.”

Root and Shaw both looked at her confused.

“With missions and stuff.” Gen finished with a forced indifferent shrug.

A second of silence went by before a loud snort broke it. Gen looked up from her pancakes to see Shaw, with a hand on her chest, laughing like she had just heard the funniest joke in the world. Gen huffed, embarrassed and looked at Root to see her grinning sheepishly with a barely suppressed giggle.

A few minutes later and Shaw literally wiped a tear away from her eye before looking at the slightly less expectant look on Gen’s face.

“Absolutely not.”

“Wh-”

“Gen, you would be dead in half a second.” Shaw interrupted.

“I wouldn’t have to go out, I can do what Harold does.” Gen protested

“You used to record on tape!” Shaw said. Root snorted from somewhere before Gen and she turned to her with a glare.

“Sorry kiddo, Harry would kill us,” Root added, “and I just got Sameen back.”

Shaw rolled her eyes good naturedly and Gen huffed. Briefly, she was glad they weren’t fighting any more before going back to being outraged.

“I’m not a kid anymore,” She said, Shaw scoffed, “and you guys aren’t young either.”

Shaw’s expression turned into a frown.

“I’m not even forty, kid.” She said.

“Ditto.” Root added.

“Well, _you_ ” she gestured to Shaw, “got hurt three times just last week and you,” she turned around to face Root, “can barely lift a gun without your hands shaking. I'm worried about you guys and you're obviously worried about each other. I just want to help out, is all.”

She took a breath as their frowns deepened.

“You guys need some new blood,” Gen said, “and I’m the perfect candidate.”

Shaw had looked at her seriously for a few seconds before glancing at Root. They communicated something in their expressions before Shaw stood up from her place at the table.

“Get your homework ready, we’re leaving for the library in ten.”

Without another work, Shaw walked off. Gen stared after her before looking at Root for an answer. Root’s head was tilted and her eyes were unfocused in the way that meant the Machine was talking to her. She glanced at Gen apologetically before leaving the kitchen with her new orders. Gen frowned and looked back down at her pancakes, suddenly losing her appetite.

 

* * *

 

A few weeks later and their discussion wasn’t brought up again, with Shaw ignoring Gen whenever she talked about it and Root barely around long enough to mention it. Gen didn’t dare bring it up with Harold and she still felt too awkward around Reese, so she suffered in silence and ignored the aching disappointment every time she eavesdropped on the numbers while she pretended to work. She couldn't stop the pang of worry when situations got dicey and Harold's voice got all panicky, nor could she stop her hands balling into fists, wishing to do something, anything to help out.

One particular day, when Finch had sent her to pick up their lunch, she had returned to what seemed to be an argument between Shaw and Finch with Root and John watching impassively from the sidelines.

“Absolutely not, Ms. Shaw.”

“Finch, we could just see what she’s capable of-”

“She is a teenager. She won’t be able to handle what we do and I can’t in good conscience drag her into this…”

“I was in college when I was a teenager, Root was a hacker, you were a computer genius," Shaw paused, "I don't know what John was but the fact is age doesn’t mean a damn thing. She wants to join and I say we let her at least try. She could shadow you…”

“Gen is not an assassin, she is not a former killer for hire, nor is she a government agent. I don’t see why we should bring her into this nor do I see how it won’t lead to unnecessary danger.”

“Finch-“

“Ms. Shaw,” He interrupted, “Genrika is a teenager, she has led a relatively normal life. By dragging her into what we do, we are pulling her into a web that can only lead to her demise.”

Shaw stopped with a sigh.

Gen’s heart thumped uncomfortably, she was desperate to interrupt and make a case for herself. Unfortunately, Bear chose that moment to alert the group of her presence by running up to her with a bark. Everyone turned to stare at Gen as her stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“Lunch is here.” Gen said with forced enthusiasm, trying to break the tension.

A few seconds went by in silence before Shaw uncrossed her arms and stormed off past Gen and out of the library. Root followed with an apologetic smile and pat on Gen’s shoulder. She looked back at Harold to see him back at work on his computers and John polishing his weapons.

Gen sighed, and scratched behind Bear’s ear, all hope of joining the team shattered.

 

* * *

 

“Wake up.”

A throaty voice woke Gen from her slumber. She opened her eyes and squinted against the light that silhouetted the figure stood above her.

“Shaw?” She asked, her voice gravelly with sleep.

“Put your shoes on, we’re going out.” Shaw said before leaving her room and the apartment.

Gen took her time putting her shoes on as sleep left her body. She grabbed her hoodie from the back of a kitchen chair and followed Shaw outside the building and into her car.

“Where are we going?” Gen asked as she put on her seatbelt and Shaw sped out of the parking garage.

Shaw didn’t answer and they spent the rest of the ride in uncomfortable silence. Briefly, Gen was worried Shaw was driving her back to school, or worse, back to Vadim’s. After a few minutes, Shaw pulled into what seemed to be an abandoned farm before killing the engine and getting out of the car.

Gen slowly left the car and followed Shaw to the back of a barn. The night was only illuminated by the moon and distant streetlights but she could make out posters stuck to the wall of the barn. Shaw came to a halt in front of Gen and reached behind her. Gen froze as she retrieved a gun and held it out to her.

“Are you ready?” She asked with a smirk.

Gen looked at the posters, targets, she realized, before looking back to Shaw and returning the smirk.

"Absolutely."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gen was exhausted in every sense of the word with only quicker reflexes, a fast dropping GPA, moderate computer hacking skills and aching muscles to show for it.

Gen’s training lessons with Shaw became a regular thing.

Most nights – the ones where Shaw wasn’t nursing an injury, at least – Shaw would quietly signal Gen to leave their apartment and depending on the day, either train target practice or self-defense.

Most of the time, Gen preferred target practice.

Guns were something she could see improvement in: her hands would shake less, her aim would get steadier and sometimes she would even hit a target.

Hand-to-hand combat however…

“Again.”

Gen remained on her back, the air completely pulled from her lungs. She stared at the ceiling of the empty gymnasium as every muscle in her body throbbed with pain.

“C’mon, _Genrika_.”

Gen tilted her head to see Shaw binding her knuckles with a smirk. A smirk that Gen had been trying for the past forty minutes to wipe off her face with no avail. She groaned and sat up, managing a weak glare at Shaw.

“Don’t call me that.”

Shaw offered her a hand.

“Are you gonna stop me?” She asked.

Gen looked at her outstretched hand and huffed, slapping it away and kicking out at Shaw’s ankle instead. By an inch, she managed to clip Shaw’s ankle and bring her to a knee. With a grunt, she launched herself at Shaw with a barely coordinated attack. Unfortunately, Shaw was still faster and caught her with minimal effort, grabbing Gen’s arm and contorting her into a picture perfect arm bar. After a few seconds of struggle (and pain) Gen tapped out on Shaw’s ankle with her other hand, causing Shaw to let go immediately and stand up.

“I give up!” Gen said, throwing her arms in the air and collapsing back on the floor.

Shaw huffed a laugh.

“No you don’t.”

Gen sat up just in time to catch the bottle of water Shaw threw at her. She uncapped the bottle and took a large swig.

“I don’t get why we’re even doing this,” Gen said, wiping at her mouth, “you guys _have_ guns. We should be on the shooting range.”

“We don’t always have guns. What’ll you do if you’re unarmed? Be annoying at them?”

Gen rolled her eyes.

“No, I just don’t think it’s fair that I have to fight _you_.” She said as she stood up.

“No such thing as fair,” Shaw scoffed, “I once had to fight off a bunch of terrorists holding semi-automatic weapons with nothing but a steel rod.”

Gen eyed Shaw skeptically as she followed her out of the building.

“That’s not true, is it?” She asked, getting into the car.

Shaw grinned.

* * *

 

It went unsaid that their training sessions remain a secret. Harold would be unhappy about any violent activity with Gen, John would probably snitch on them and Root...

Root was a lost cause because secrets rarely remained secrets around her.

“Shaw went too rough on you last night?”

Gen jumped as the voice behind her rung out, her hands automatically retreating from her sore shoulder. She turned in her seat to see Root walking into the library with a brown paper bag.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Gen said hesitantly, not sure if Shaw had told Root about their activities.

Root laughed in response while unwrapping their lunches.

“I have a near omniscient God in my ear and,” she held out a sandwich for Gen, “I live with you.”

Gen scowled as she took the sandwich from Root’s hand. She took a bite and watched Root the same before asking.

“How long have you known?”

Root laughed.

“The first night. Shaw’s pretty sneaky but you’ve still got work to do,” She grinned, “and you started doing push-ups instead of eating dessert and that’s just out of character for you.”

Gen disguised her pout with another bite of food. The push-ups had been part of the Sameen Shaw Training Mandate which called for Gen to exercise her already-sore muscles while Shaw ate her share of dessert. It was the one part of training that Gen vocally protested to which only earned her a shrug and “ _guess you don’t want to join the team”_.

Which led Gen back to her injured shoulder courtesy of a hip throw from Shaw. It nagged her even while she solemnly worked on her school work which reminded her of her exams and her already full plate.

“Y’know,” Root said, breaking Gen’s musings, “fighting and shooting aren’t the only assets to the team.”

Gen furrowed her brows and waited for Root to continue. Root crumpled up her finished sandwich and leaned back in Harold’s chair.

“You used to record on tape,” Root didn’t ask but Gen nodded anyways, Root leaned forward, “how good are you with computers?”

Gen grinned, her plate suddenly didn’t look as full.

* * *

 

By the end of the week, Gen’s daily schedule had been fuller than ever.

First, she went on a run with Shaw before the crack of dawn. Then, she’d get dropped off at the library and alternate the coding tutorials Root had set up and her school work. Then, lunch with Finch which meant more study and coming up with answers to which college she wanted to go to and what she wanted to study. Then she’d return home with Shaw and work on more computer stuff while she prepared dinner, then a small warm-up before training with Shaw at eleven.

Gen was exhausted in every sense of the word with only quicker reflexes, a fast dropping GPA, moderate computer hacking skills and aching muscles to show for it.

“That’s time.”

Gen sighed and dropped her head to the table, her brain as worn out as her body. Root leaned over her body to examine the results on the monitor.

“You breached the first and seconds firewalls but got caught behind the third.” Root noted, amused.

“I would’ve got past it if I had more time.” Gen mumbled into the table.

Root laughed as she adjusted her glasses and began resetting the test.

“You don’t _get_ more time when you’re neck deep in the Pentagon with a fractured wrist and a rapidly fracturing cover.”

Gen lifted her head and narrowed her eyes.

“That’s not actually true is it?”

Root smirked and continued her work.

“I don’t understand why you guys lie about what you do! I’m already interested in joining the team.” Gen said, throwing her arms up in defeat.

“I’m giving you five minutes this time, reset in fifteen seconds.” Root said, walking back to her seat on the couch. She took a slow sip out of her coffee as Gen stared at the countdown on the monitor and willed her headache to disappear.

Her concentration was broken by Shaw who walked into the living room, rubbing the sweat from her forehead. She leaned over the couch, pulled the coffee from Root’s hands and took a large swig.

“Hey Shaw, remember that time we got trapped in the Pentagon.” Root said, her eyes glued to Gen. Shaw spluttered in her mug before pulling it away and wiping at her face.

“You wouldn’t have broken your wrist if you didn’t lie about how much weight you could hold.” Shaw mumbled, her ears reddening slightly. She handed Root back her mug and sat on the couch an appropriate distance away.

A distance Root ignored as she leaned into Shaw’s side and whispered (loud enough for Gen to hear, _seriously why did she even bother whispering?_ )

“Maybe I didn’t account for how enthusiastic you’d be...” Root said with a smirk. Shaw pushed her back to the other side of couch, got up and left the room.

Gen stared after her before Root broke the silence.

“Four minutes left, Gen.” She said, walking past her with laser focus on the door Shaw just disappeared behind.

Gen looked back down at the computer and sure enough, her time was ticking away.

She sighed and wondered if Root ever had to deal with a distraction as big as her.

* * *

 

With Root and Shaw both convinced on her joining the team, Gen only had one major obstacle left.

She still hadn’t found a way to convince Harold to let her join. She couldn’t bring up the progress in her training sessions because it would mean getting Root and Shaw in trouble and she couldn’t come up with a good enough reason that would convince him to let her join. Whenever Gen would subtly hint at joining or even offer help with a mission, she would somehow find more homework assignments she “missed” or she would be buried in college brochures and application forms. When she was almost ready to give up completely, the perfect opportunity presented itself that would absolutely convince him she was the perfect asset.

“Mr. Reese, I’m afraid I can’t get past the company’s security.” Harold said, rapidly typing away on his computer.

 _“We don’t have much time here, Finch. If you don’t get in then we have to do this the hard way.”_ Reese said over the comms, his sentence punctuated with a weapon being cocked.

“It’s quite advanced, John. I can’t find a way in.” Harold’s voice grew shakier with panic as his eyes rapidly scanned the screen for information.

Gen leaned over from her position behind Finch and watched the scroll of information.

“There,” She pointed to the top corner of the screen, “they have a small vulnerability.”

Harold scoffed, not even looking in Gen’s direction.

“I think I’ve would’ve noticed something if it were right…” he looked at where she was pointing, “There.”

His typing stopped and he looked at Gen with furrowed brows, a question on the tip of his tongue.

_“Finch, Shaw is getting impatient.”_

He blinked at John’s voice and turned back to the computer, typing slowly now and exploiting the vulnerability.

“I’m in.” He said, looking up at Gen in shock.

Gen didn’t return his gaze, only going back to her seat and continuing to pretend to do homework while suppressing the biggest grin ever and acting totally casual.

“Ms. Zhirova…”

Gen didn’t look up from her papers.

“Gen.” Harold’s voice deepened with warning.

Gen looked up nervously, all casualness melted away.

“Harold.” She responded, suddenly forgetting all the monologues she practiced for this moment.

“Where exactly did you learn to hack?” He asked even though Gen was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

“I…have many hobbies.” She said with a shrug.

“Ms. Zh-”

Gen stood up abruptly, the sound of her chair scraping against the floor interrupting Harold.

“Look at that, Time for Bear’s walk!” She said, shuffling towards the sleeping dog. She hooked his leash and pulled the thoroughly confused Malinois up and out of the library. 

* * *

 

So, Gen ended up sort of wasting her perfect opportunity and Harold actually doubled down on her exam prep, bogging her with so much homework that she didn’t have time for Root’s coding practice.

“I’m a little offended you didn’t drop Shaw’s classes.”

Gen offered a shrug in response. Truthfully, she didn’t hate combat training ever since she started getting better, _especially_ since she caught Shaw off-guard in their last class and gave her a nice, noticeable shiner. Gen would grin every time she spotted it in the mornings before Shaw would put on her makeup, Shaw would roll her eyes but there would always be a hint of a smile that accompanied it.

Gen’s second chance came the night before her final AP exam.

For once, she wasn’t eavesdropping on a number briefing.Instead, she was hidden in the spare room of the library, trying to cram as much information as she could in the shortest amount of time.

“Gen.”

Gen looked up from the table and caught Shaw’s eye. The stress left her half-cocked to yell at Shaw to leave her alone. Thankfully, Shaw cut her short.

“It’s showtime, kiddo.”

Every thought of her exams, schoolwork and studying left her brain and she wordlessly followed Shaw out of the small room and into the main space where Reese and Finch were standing.

Harold took one look at Gen.

“Absolutely not, Ms. Shaw.”

“You got a better idea, Finch? Because I’m yet to hear it.”

“I could go in, get a feel for the place.” John said coolly.

Shaw scoffed.

“Can’t think of a faster way to break up a high school party than by the cops showing up, Reese. Next.”

“We could set up surveillance in a neighboring house, keep an eye from afar.” Harold said.

“Can we set that up in two hours? There’s gotta be at least a hundred kids coming, how are we keeping an eye on all of them? Next.”

Silence fell as Gen shuffled uncomfortably, caught in the middle of a conversation with no context.

“You could go i-”

“Don’t flatter me, Finch. I don’t have nearly enough acne and bad hygiene to fit in,” Shaw looked at Gen, “no offense.”

The room went silent as Harold and John pondered their ideas. With a sigh, Finch looked up at Gen, his face a grim expression of seriousness.

“Very well, Ms. Zhirova. Welcome to the team. Temporarily.” 

* * *

 

The victorious grin didn’t disappear from Gen’s face during her entire mission briefing.

Shaw had taken over mission control duties as Harold idly stood by, still wrestling with his conscience. It was a simple, easy, in and out number; a high school kid with a target on his head by probably the rival football team. Gen was to go in, identify the perps and point them out for Reese who would break the party up, catch the perps and put them away.

“No fuss, no muss, kid.”

A package delivery from outside interrupted the last points of their brief. Inside a plastic sheet was a simple, black dress in Gen’s size, courtesy of Root and the Machine. After she had gotten changed in the spare room (and sent a few thankful emojis Root’s way) she made her entrance to the library, catching the eyes of Harold, John and Shaw (and Bear). Shaw grinned and handed her a hair tie with a ‘ _have fun, kid’_. John clapped her on the shoulder and procured a small, pink taser _‘just in case’_. Harold was last, walking up to her hesitantly and giving a small smile.

“You look lovely, Ms. Zhirova.”

Gen beamed and nodded her head. Harold reached into his pocket and obtained a small earpiece, reaching out and placing it in Gen’s hand carefully.

“Just…be safe out there.” He said.

Gen nodded and rested her hand on top of his reassuringly.

“Time to go, Gen.”

Shaw turned to Shaw’s voice and smirked.

“What are we going in?” 

* * *

 

Their car wasn’t as flashy as Gen (or Shaw) would’ve liked but to be fair, the 2015 Audi R8 was a lot flashier than most cars teenagers owned. Gen was still a little upset that they didn’t get the Lamborghini, she was even more upset that Shaw insisted on driving.

“You’re clumsier than a gazelle, no way you’re getting behind the wheel of a car this nice.”

Gen had pouted but didn’t argue further, thrilled with just going on a mission.

The thrill wore off as soon as Shaw dropped her off at the party.

When she arrived, it was almost in full swing with kids overflowing the house into the front yard and driveway. An all-girls preparatory school full of overachieving nerds hadn’t really prepared Gen for anything more intense than a competitive game of Trivial Pursuit; a party was out of her league.

_“Scared already, Gen? You haven’t even walked in the front door.”_

Gen grit her teeth at Shaw’s smug voice in her ear. With a determined huff, she pushed past the multiple kids in the driveway and into the house. Unfortunately, the house was even more packed than the front yard and she had trouble even moving, let alone seeing the number.

_“Have you found our number yet, Ms. Zhirova?”_

Finch’s voice struggled against the music of the party.

“I’m working on it.” Gen muttered as she looked around the room, thankful for the height the heels gave her. A few more unsuccessful minutes of looking around and pushing away guys who got too close for comfort went by before Gen stopped still, annoyed with her failure. Before she could put a hand to her comm and announce her failure to the team, her phone buzzed with a message. She pulled it out, mindful of the hot pink taser right beside it, and furrowed her brow at the contents.

_Upstairs and to the left –R_

Gen smiled, silently thanking Root for the assist. She pushed past throngs of teenagers and made it upstairs, dealing with the locked door in no time and pushing in.

“Hey!”

A guy, their number, shouted from the bed where he was with some other girl. Gen inhaled and refreshed her lessons with Root

“Daniel? How could you!? I thought what we had was special? You gave me your promise ring!”

The poor kid, Daniel, looked at Gen in confusion. The other girl looked rightfully nervous and Gen turned her attack onto her.

“Who the hell are you? Get away from my boyfriend! Get out!” Gen shrieked, chasing the girl out of the room.

“Look, I don’t even know who you are and I’m like forty percent sure you’re not my girlfriend.” Daniel mumbled, obviously drunk, from the bed.

Gen locked the room door and put a finger back to her ear.

“I’ve got the number.”

_“Nice acting, kiddo. Almost gave Root a run for her money.”_

Gen smiled at Shaw’s response and turned back around to the number who was busy trying to stay awake.

 _“We just gotta wait for our perps to make their appearance.”_ John said over the line.

Gen’s internal victory lap was broken by a loud thumping at the door.

“I don’t think that’s the girl from before.” Gen muttered, backing away from the door slowly.

_“Hang in there, kid. We’ll be there in ten.”_

The door shook with the knocks as dust came off the doorframes.

“I know you’re in there, Daniel!” A voice shouted from outside the door.

 _“Mr. Reese, you need to make that five.”_ Harold said nervously.

Gen stared at the door, slightly frozen up by the angry voices from the other side.

“That’s it!” A voice shouted.

Before she even knew it, the door crashed open with the force of what looked to be a very angry linebacker.

“Where’s Daniel?” One of them asked, looking at Gen in a way that was supposed to be intimidating.

A loud snore from behind her interrupted Gen’s response and the guy tilted his head to see the sleeping number. He took a step forward, expecting Gen to get out of the way and surprised when she didn’t.

“Get out of my way.” He said angrily.

_“Mr. Reese!”_

_“I’m there in three, Finch.”_

_“You got this, kid.”_

Gen steeled herself.

“I can’t let you do that.” She said, summoning her best Shaw impression.

He scoffed and put a hand on her arm, trying to push her away. Unfortunately for him, it was almost the perfect set up for the hip toss she had been practicing. She grabbed his shoulders and pulled his weight against him, crashing him to the floor with a large enough noise that it woke their number and alerted everyone in the house. Fortunately, John arrived just in time and the sirens of the police cars outside sent the house into a pandemonium as everyone fled the house.

“I’m all done here, guys.” Gen said with a grin.

A grin that melted off her face when she spotted the wall clock and realized that her exam was in less than two hours. 

* * *

 

She ended up acing her exams and when Shaw asked if she had manipulated the results, Gen only smirked in response.

Harold had tried again, to no avail, to dissuade her from joining the team; even after her spectacular first mission, he was hesitant to let her be a full member of team machine, wanting her to go to college instead. They did end up with a compromise wherein Gen would study at a local college and work for Team Machine on a part time basis for missions that required her special talents.

“What talents would those be?” Shaw snorted.

“Not being super old, for one.” Gen grinned.

More often than not, she would get the easier numbers which she was fine with because even the easier numbers ended in gunfire and explosions sometimes. Her new job also allowed for some perks which included some more hi-tech surveillance equipment which she immediately placed in Root and Shaw’s apartment.

And after reviewing the footage from only the second day after she had moved out, immediately switched to _audio only_ and labelled with a _gross_.

(Gen reasoned that it was probably the only good thing about being back in a dorm.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thanks for the prompt, anon. I hope this was to your liking. Thank you to everyone else for your fantastic comments. If you want to send me some more prompts, I'm at araxxes.tumblr.com/ask where I'll get to it sometime in the near future.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
